Tag Archives: Mark Goldstein

Photos! Camille Martin and Mark Goldstein at the Myopic in Chicago

Borghes imagined paradise to be a kind of library. It can also be a dream of a bookstore with a poetry reading series, such as Myopic Books in Chicago. It’s hard to imagine a more heavenly venue. Below is a slideshow of photos from my reading there on April 21 with Mark Goldstein. Big thank-yous to Larry Sawyer, host extraordinaire of the Myopic Poetry Series.

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Camille Martin

“Toronto poets Camille Martin and Mark Goldstein bring lyricism to BIG NIGHT”

Photos! Buffalo’s Big Night featuring Camille Martin and Mark Goldstein

Buffalo is a happening poetry mecca—here are some photos from my January 28 reading with Mark Goldstein, also featuring films by Carl Lee and gourmet eats by Geoffrey Gatza. As if that weren’t enough, we were also treated to a mock Republican poet debate by Michael Kelleher and Aaron Lowinger (co-curators of Big Night).

Alas, I didn’t get photos of half the people I would have liked to—I wanted to enjoy their company as well—but here are a few that I was able to snap at the event. Enjoy!

(Click on a photo to get the gallery view.)

Camille Martin

Big Night! Big Night! Were I in Buffalo . . .

Fellow Toronto poet Mark Goldstein and I are delighted to be kicking off Big Night Buffalo’s 2012 reading season at the beautiful Western New York Book Arts Center.

Done with the compass, done with the chart. Come!

Camille Martin

Mark Goldstein, from Tracelanguage

From my just-received subscription stack of titles from BookThug, a couple of poems by Mark Goldstein, from Tracelanguage:

By word of mouth,
a deafening volcanic rush
opens on a flooding mob
of anti-artists – your surrender
in effigy, an afterimage or
well-chosen title.

Ill, you threw the words away
giving yourself to the tidal sway
and all that held you . . .

Your absence testifies
to the nudity of each beginning –
a kingless burden
in death.

* * * *

Between channels
a white noise clouds the signal
pressing the words I wrote
to reveal, in a shaky hand
the root among us
remaking slate from slate
syllable from syllable, unearthing
the copper-light of the begging bowl
beneath the ruins
we became.

* * * *

This stand of groundlessness
splinters no core
its shared breadth

This stand
cut deeply by riverbed
yields nothing but the
pockmarked, panicked

* * * *

Mark Goldstein, Tracelanguage (Toronto: BookThug, 2010)

Camille Martin